The Penn's Grove record., 1887-07-23

About htty miles east OF San AntO-
MO is the little town of San Marcos.
The low-lying hills hug 1t closely on
the north, the south wind with ''the
odor OF brine'' yet on her breast fans
its face, and so watched and tended it
lies like a lazy child asleep beside the
crystal waters of its river-its river
which a poet once described as
A Princess reused from slumber by the kiss
OF balmy Southern skies, who springs
From her rocky bed, and hastenS on.
Far down the vale, to give her royal hand
In marriage to the waiting Guadalupe.
A half mile below the head of the
stream, where the ''royal" skirts have
brushed past an old mill and set the
wheels a-whirring, a road leads upward
into the town.
Down this road one afternoon In the
early spring came a nan and a woman.
In the air was that vague, delicious
thrill that marks the birth time of the
year, and over the earth the sunshine
lay warm and bright like a golden sea.
The girl, slim and straight a. a
young magnolia tree, was walking rap.
idly, the killings of her blue flannel
dress flying out from either side with
every step, as if in ecstasy Of motion.
The man Kept pace with her, but
with slower movement, there being
less of vitality in his slight, well-built
figure, but more OF nervous force.
AS they reached the river and started
up the slope toward the mill the girl
stopped suddenly.
'oh, 1 forgot my dreaml l must go
back home"
- She turned her eyes full on him as
she spoke, with a half frightened gaze.
They were of that indescribable
shade called violet or pansy, but which
is really blue, burned dark by Southern
suns, and the effect of their purple
lights against the clear olive of her skin
was startling at times, and gave a
peculiar fascination to the small, some
what irregular face.
''Your dreaml What dreamY'' he
asked.
why" very earnestly, ''don't you
know the legend Of the San Marcos
riverP Well, old people say that if you
dream Of that Indian maiden who
drowned herself here, and see the dark
water disturbed where she plunged In,
you will meet trouble before the day is
over, and last night I dreamed of her
three times.
He looked at her with an Irritating
smile. and then answered, teasingly:
why, Miss Lucia, are you really so
childish, and do you fancy that If you
stay locked in your room you will out
wit destinyp" Here he laughed out
right. why, the fates arc like love
they laugh at bolts and bars. But
come on, I'll see that the grim sisters
don't dip you In the river anyway. l
don't know whether 1 a avert all the
rest of their malicious designs or not,
but l promise to do my best"
"You may make fun of me if you
want to, but if l am superstitious l
can't help it. Am l responsible for an
Irish grandmother and an old Creole
nursep"
Her voice trembled, and she turned
her flushed face away.
He came nearer, all the levity gone
out of his manner
II did not mean to wound you, Miss
Lucia. You a be just as fanciful as
you want, If you only say you forgive
my foolish testing, and won't 60
home"
"Well,'' after a pause. and with a
charming smile. II will forgive you,
because you are a man. and they are
all more or less inhuman, you know;
but you must not ever do it again; and
1 don't believe l will go home either"
looking dreamily around-"the even
ing is too fine TO waste"
THANK you! And, honestly. 1 don't
care how much you abuse my sex-so
you are kind to me-" he added men,
tally, giving the little ear turned toward
him such a passionate look that if dumb
things could interpret, the birds, and
the trees, and the running water would
have guessed his carefully guarded
secret.
Lucia Grey, watching the changing
shadows on the hills, was unconscious
OF this gaze.
After climbing the slope they fol-
lowed the river, close to its edge, past
the Lovers Nook" a natural sofa in
the sheltered side of a high cliff. which
probably received its name In primitive
days, as it WAS o given over to family
and the general public; up the
rocky steep beyond, to q quiet, shaded
spot, where the high banks oyerhung
the water, and one, leaning over, might
catch a glimpse of that wOndrous
underground that fills the bed of this
stream, and makes it seem like the re-
Election of some garden OF heaven, held
forever in a crystal case. There they
to rest.
Lucia, 10 trying to reach an old fallen
tree, which offered a very luxurious
loungIng place, caught her dress on a
aguarita bush, and was held so
that a bit OF the pretty rufie had
to be sacrificed before she could be 70
They laughed merrily over the disas-
ter, and, after much slipping and
scrambling, finally arranged themselves
to tier satisfaction; she on the old
with her head against a moscow
cred stump, and be on a 1at rock a few
feet below.
Laurence Holt was called a homely
man, but his dark face. with the clean
cut outlines and the sensitive, boyish
color in the cheeks, had something 1ne
about it, and In the sunlight was al
most handsome, for it was a face that
needed the rays of the sun to bring out
Is best tints.
The eyes, a dull brown in the shade.
brilliant in the light, with that
iubdued radiance that seems to warm